The Good Samaritan
by Sarah Mercury
Summary: A woman afraid of death; a man who laughs in its face. Watch what happen when fate forces them to work together... Rated for suggestive content. JinxOC
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything Jak and Daxter related; all characters, places, etc. relating to the game(s) are owned by Naughty Dog.

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><p>"<em>Dare to reach out your hand into the darkness, to pull another hand into the light<em>." – _Norman B. Rice _

**PROLOGUE**

It was a cold night, and the rain was pouring so hard that it kicked up a fog. The lamps around the streets couldn't break through it, and only managed to cast shadows. The moon hid behind the clouds, which did not give signs of letting up any time soon. It was dark, dreary, rainy and cold; everyone had the sense to stay inside, bar the doors and sleep away the night. Everyone, that is, except for one: a petite, raven-haired young woman named Cera.

She had already been walking in the rain for over half an hour, and still had a long ways to go. Every now and then she'd look up, to make sure she was going in the right direction, but she couldn't see anything past her hand, so she had to rely on force of habit; trust that her feet knew where to go even if her eyes did not. She had made the journey several dozen times before, rain or not. It was just easier when it was clear.

As she turned a corner in the Slums, nearly tripping on an outcropping of rock, most likely protruding due to excessive weapon fire or exploding Zoomers, she was grateful that she wasn't carrying her huge sac. It was heavy, awkward and added time to her walk. Unfortunately, as long as she was carrying that sac, she knew how the journey would end: she would exchange her merchandise for mercy and silence, and then she would go home, secure for another week. When her "employer" contacted her, telling her to meet him without the merchandise, she started to worry.

With every step in nearly every muddy puddle she passed, she hoped more and more that it was just a simple matter of acquiring more goods. Where she lived, she had so much access to them that doubling, even tripling, the number of goods was not an issue. She truly hoped it wasn't going to be another Question and Answer meeting; her "employer" sometimes held those in order to find out exactly where she lived. If he ever found out that information, it could compromise her advantage in goods: he could end up demanding so much that she wouldn't be able to supply, and then the agreement for silence would be broken. Worse, he could send in some of his minions to kill her, and no one would ever know.

She shook that thought out of her mind, although in truth, she shook from the cold, attempting to get the rain off her. She followed it with a sneeze and a snort, as she walked out into a more open area, one less sheltered from the weather as the Slums had been, despite the tall walls surrounding it. Judging by that landmark alone, she guessed she was halfway to her destination. The weather and the worry slowed her pace; she should have been farther by that point. She was going to be late, which turned her worry into fear. Her "employer" loathed tardiness. It was going to cost her.

She started to jog. Her muscles ached already, but every time her joints screamed in protest, she quashed it with the knowledge that she was late. The wind pushed against her harder here, but she pressed on, ignoring the pain in her chest from breathing too heavily. All the thinking she did since she left home was washed from her mind, replaced with the same chant, over and over: _I'm late, I'm late, I'm late_... She was so wrapped up in that thought alone that she almost didn't hear the distant rev of a motor engine approach her. Not until the vehicle passed her, and then slowed to a stop.

She slowed her jogging pace to a walk again, curious as to who was out in this wretched weather. At least the vehicle had a roof; whoever was inside was dry. Of course, Cera couldn't help but notice how clunky and massive it was; she guessed whoever owned it didn't have a great deal of money. The vehicle looked old, the paint job was peeling and it only had one hover engine, which meant that it could only hover in one zone.

Cera feared that since she had just recently left the Slums, the person in the vehicle may have been a delinquent. Unfortunately, in order to get to where she was going, she had to pass the now idling motorist. Compounding worry upon worry, she tentatively walked by the vehicle, keeping as much distance between it and herself as possible; a difficult task, as the driver chose to idle in the middle of the street.

As soon as she was in view of the passenger-side window, the Gull-wing door hissed open and flipped up, revealing the inside of the obsolete transport, as well as the driver, who turned to look at her, grinning slightly at her dishevelled appearance. She stood just under the opened door, grateful for the reprieve from the pounding rain against her body. After wiping the water from her face, and blinking a few times to clear her vision, she focused her attention on the driver, hoping to determine whether he was a ne'er-do-well, or simply a good Samaritan out for an evening cruise.

The first thing she noticed about him were his eyes: they were brown, like hers, but different; they were sharp, bright and piercing. They captured her gaze the instant they were upon her. The way he looked at her stirred something inside her; something that frightened her. She subconsciously backed up a bit, only to suddenly remember that it was raining, and the door to his vehicle was sheltering her from it.

When she re-focused her attention, she then noticed his hands: he was wearing thick, leather gloves, but it didn't hide their strength. He had long fingers, which appeared blistered, indicating to her that he worked with his hands a lot. He was resting his left arm on the wheel, his hand slightly gripping it, while his right hand reached up to remove the cigar from his mouth. He breathed out the excess smoke and quickly flicked the ashes hanging from the stogie, not in an ashtray, but in the back seat of the vehicle. The blatant disregard of cleanliness he had made Cera cringe slightly, but then, it was an old transport, and it _was_ his, after all.

He smiled at her, forcing her to gaze at his mouth, and his surprisingly white teeth, despite the nasty habit dangling from his fingers. He asked, with a rich, city accent, "What'cha doin' out so late, Dollface? And in this weather, too?"

A dozen lies swam around her mind. He was a complete stranger; she couldn't tell him the truth. And she still wasn't certain he wouldn't hurt her, either. She wrapped her arms around her body, in a vain attempt to keep warm. Since she wasn't walking, she wasn't producing heat, and the cold rain only hit her harder. She was about to tell him that she was just out for a leisurely stroll when she suddenly sneezed again.

"Tell you what," he said, kindly, patting the passenger seat with his cigar hand, "there's an extra chair in here, and it's warm and dry, too."

Cera shook her head. "No, tha-CHOO!" She sniffed, wiping her nose ineffectively with the back of her wet hand.

"Get in," he said, with a sharper tone. "I'll even drive you to where you're goin'. I doubt you're just out for a leisurely stroll."

She shook her head more vigorously. "No, no, you can't do that!"

The blond-haired man cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

She fidgeted. "It's... It's complicated. I can't show up with someone. If he thinks I have an accomplice, he'll kill me."

His eyebrow went higher. "Who's 'he'?"

"It... He... I..." She swallowed. Those piercing, brown eyes were drilling a hole in hers, waiting for her answer. He flicked the ashes off his cigar before taking another drawl from it, never removing his gaze from hers. It was then that she understood the phrase '_If looks could kill_...' She continued, "Daren Teivel."

He brought his eyebrows together, but narrowed his vision, straightening his back suspiciously. Cera didn't notice just how built the man was until he tensed up as such. To keep herself from losing her composure, she averted her gaze, muttering to her shoes, "You've, um, heard of him?"

"Who hasn't?" he replied, rhetorically. Before she could say anything else, he asked, "What business do you have with him?"

"It's -" She was going to say '_none of your business_', but she made the mistake of looking up at him. She feared that being crass with him would end up badly. So instead she said, "- complicated."

He took a long drawl from his cigar, considering her response. His eyes fluttered over her, possibly doing a visual frisking, checking if she had any weaponry. The way her ragged clothing clung to her wet body and the absence of any bags, pockets or sacs told him that she was unarmed. He sighed, turning around in his seat so he was facing forwards. He crushed the remains of his stogie in a make-shift ashtray next to the accelerator gear between the two seats before gripping the wheel with both hands. "Get in," he commanded, leaving no room for debate.

He still had a frightening look on his face, so Cera decided against objecting. She carefully got into the vehicle, wincing at the water she was getting all over the seat, and the mud her shoes brought in with her. He pushed a button near the wheel to close the Gull-wing door, and another to turn the heater on warmer. She suspected he did the latter one for her sake; he was wearing a sleeveless shirt, but had heavy cargo pants on, and very thick boots. He wore a red bandanna around his neck and leather straps in an X form across his chest. They had small pockets on them, presumably for storing ammo for the small hand-held at his side. She also noticed that he was already sweating; an act which made his skin glisten.

"Where're you headin'?" he asked, softly.

It still made her gasp slightly. She hoped he didn't notice her staring. She swallowed. "C-Central Park," she replied.

"When do you need to be there by?"

Only then did she remember the time crunch, and how hopelessly late she was. Her eyes widened as she glanced at the vehicle's digital clock. "Ten minutes!"

He broke out into a mischievous grin, barring all his teeth. "I suggest you buckle up, Sweetheart: it's gonna be a bumpy ride!"

"No! You don't need to -!" But she couldn't finish before he grabbed the accelerator gear and threw it forward, launching the ancient, obsolete vehicle into a speed that would outrun even the fastest Zoomer. Cera let out a blood-curdling shriek, as they barrelled toward a corner, cutting it so close that they halfway climbed the wall before levelling out horizontally. Having forgotten to put on her seat belt, Cera was thrown forward, but as quick as lightning, the speed demon gripped her shoulder and pushed her back, keeping one hand on the wheel to steer the vehicle away from another wall, just in time to avoid a crash.

He removed his hand from her shoulder to replace it on the wheel, giving him more momentum in twisting it, manoeuvring through a tight, zigzagged passageway. She screamed again, covering her eyes as he sped toward another corner, only barely making it through. "Slow down!" she cried, as the vehicle jumped slightly from hitting a speed bump too fast.

His reply was a loud laugh, that sounded more like a cackle, spinning the wheel so hard right to avoid a building that Cera was actually thrown into him. She took the opportunity to grab onto his arm, digging her fingers into his skin, holding on to dear life. She never realized how many twists and turns there were in Haven City until she met that lunatic, who flashed her a grin just before swerving the vehicle into a perfect 360 degrees, claiming he went the wrong way, accelerating the engine until the boost pushed their momentum forward again.

"Almost there, Dollface," he said, as if he were discussing the weather, ignoring the bruises forming on his arm from the frightened passenger clinging to it. His eyes glowed with something devious just before he took one last corner, sharply as always, and for the sake of showing off, swerved the vehicle into a stop, just outside Central Park.

Even though they weren't moving anymore, Cera still held onto his arm, waiting for her pounding heart to relax. It took several seconds for her to realize she was still digging her nails into his skin, so she let up. But it wasn't until her senses started swimming with the aroma of adrenaline filled, male pheromones that she gasped and backed away, as if he were electrically charged.

She hoped, uselessly, that he didn't notice, but the devilish grin on his face told her otherwise. Luckily, he was decent enough not to point it out. What he _did_ say was, "All you have to do now is walk into Central Park, and Teivel won't know you got a ride."

With her heart still pounding, for a different reason now, she nodded, said, "Thanks," and turned to open the door.

She was stopped when he reached across her seat to softly grab her wrist. She turned back around, worry leaking from her face, but her fears were laid to rest when she noticed his facial features relaxed into a more friendly fashion. He looked like the good Samaritan she thought he was when he drove up beside her in the first place. "You know," he said, reaching into the vehicle's glove compartment to pull out another cigar, "you _are_ about five minutes early. There's no need to stand in the rain for that time. Why don't we sit and chat for a bit?"

She didn't answer. She knew he wanted answers; everyone always wanted answers. It wasn't as if she didn't want to give them: she just couldn't risk it. But he didn't bombard her with questions right away; he took a few seconds to light a match under the stogie and puff at it. When he was satisfied that he could inhale the smoke under its own volition, he waved the match vigorously to put out the flame, then flicked it into the back seat. He took a drawl from it, leaned back slightly against his chair and gazed at the girl sitting in the passenger seat. He let the smoke out in order to ask, "So, what business do you have with that fanatical crime boss?"

"I'm sorry," she replied, sadly, "I can't tell you."

He narrowed his vision slightly, but didn't get angry. Instead, he said, "Okay; if you can't tell me, how 'bout I ask the question, and you just nod if I'm right?"

Cera opened her mouth to object, but decided his theory could work. Besides, she owed him for the ride. So she nodded. He flicked some ashes off his cigar and mused, "Everyone knows Teivel is obsessed with Metal Heads. Is he trying to organize an army with them?"

She shook her head.

"Nah, of course not; even if that were true, he wouldn't need a pretty girl to do it."

She blushed and turned away.

He saw her blush, but she didn't see him grin in response. He asked, "Is he tradin' with them, or else doing business with them?" She started to shake her head, but then stopped, turning her eyes to the ceiling in thought. "Not quite, huh? Okay, are _you_ tradin' with them for Teivel's sake?"

That question made her teeter her hand back and forth. _Sort of_. He took a puff from his cigar, excitedly, and asked, "Does this have to do with Skull Gems?"

She nodded.

"Aha! You're getting Skull Gems from Metal Heads and givin' them to Teivel!"

She actually smiled when she nodded.

He quickly scanned her person, looking for any signs of Skull Gems, or even a weapon, but again found nothing. All he noticed was how her wet clothes clung to the curves of her body, so he fidgeted uncomfortably in order to avoid embarrassment. He said, suspiciously, "You don't look like someone who can take on a Metal Head. And you don't have any Skull Gems with you."

"Uh, no, Teivel contacted me and told me just to come without the merchandise. I don't know what he wants."

_I know what _I'd_ want_, he thought, shifting again and shaking his head. She didn't seem to notice. He asked, "Can you tell me what he wants Skull Gems for? Or at least why he can't get them himself?"

"No," she replied, "I can't. I'm sorry." She glanced at the clock and added, "I have to go."

She opened the door and it made a hiss as it flipped up. Before she left, he cleared his throat, to get her attention, and said, "I have just one more question." She looked around at him, waiting. "What's your name?"

"Oh, uh, it's Cera."

He smiled. It was a nice name. He outstretched his hand and said, "Jinx."

She raised an eyebrow. "I am _not_ a Jinx."

It took him a second to understand, and when he did, he laughed hard. "No! No, Dollface! I meant my _name_ is Jinx!"

"Oh!" She flushed with embarrassment and quickly took his hand to shake, hoping he wouldn't take offence. The thought was pushed from her mind the moment her hand gripped his. She loved how strong it felt, as if it could take all her troubles away. He softly rubbed his thumb along her wrist, chuckling silently at how small her hand was compared to his. She looked up at his eyes, glowing with some emotion she couldn't identify. She felt instinct pull her forward, felt her heart crash against her chest, felt her eyes flutter shut...

And then she heard the shrill bark of Teivel's bulldog in the distance, denoting that he had arrived in Central Park. Cera's eyes flew open and she jumped back, ripping her hand away from the crazy driver who brought her there. He gave her a look of pain mixed with confusion, so she averted her gaze and got out of the vehicle. "Th-Thank you for the ride," she said, licking her lips quickly at what almost happened, before closing the door and walking off in the rain toward her destination.

As soon as she turned the corner to enter the park, Jinx flipped his dashboard around and pushed a yellow button on the other side. It flashed for a few seconds, as it sent out a signal to Freedom HQ. Whether they pick up the signal and contact him was anyone's guess; Torn and Ashelin rarely paid Jinx any mind unless they needed him for something. In the meantime, he quickly finished his cigar, crossing his legs and imagining what Torn would look like in a dress. By the time his body calmed down, and he was reduced to sucking on the negligible butt of his stogie, his message was received and the holographic image of Haven City's governor appeared above his dashboard.

"We're kind of busy right now, Jinx!" Ashelin snapped. "What do you want?"

Expecting her to be crass and impatient, he didn't take her tone seriously. Instead, he simply asked, "You guys still lookin' for Daren Teivel?"

She scoffed. "Always looking, never finding. He's harder to locate than you when you owe someone money. What does that have to do with anything?"

He crushed the butt of his cigar in his make-shift ashtray. "'Cause I found him."

Ashelin sighed angrily, her holographic eyes showing her rage, even though her image flickered in and out every now and then. "We _really_ don't have time for your sick sense of humour!"

"Do I sound like I'm jokin', Toots? He's in Central Park right now. Send a scout party if you don't believe me, but by the time they get here, he'll be long gone."

Her head turned to the side before it flicked off. Jinx knew she was talking with Torn, to figure out what to do. He was able to light up yet another cigar before Torn himself flicked back on. With a voice inherit only to those who excel at commanding, he said, "If Teivel is in Central Park, it's too good an opportunity to pass up. Try to capture him alive; I'd like to know what kind of information we can get out of him."

Jinx nodded, but before he could disconnect the transmission, Ashelin's voice in the background asked, "_I'd_ like to know how you found out Teivel was in Central Park."

He hesitated. That woman, Cera, was very insistent on the secrecy of her mission. It would be ungentlemanly of him to compromise that for her. He grinned; never let it be said that Jinx can't be a gentleman. He answered, "I was drivin' around and found him by accident."

He saw the image of Torn's tattooed face raise an eyebrow. "Trolling for night walkers?"

"Escorts, technically," Jinx answered, instinctively patting the pocket on his cargo pants that held his credits. It was true he was out looking for someone to spend the night with, but now he simply wasn't in the mood. "Anyway, Teivel awaits," he finished, pushing the yellow button again to disconnect. He flipped his dashboard back into place and fished around the glove compartment for his cigars, ammo, matches and gunpowder. Then he stretched to the back seat and brought up his backpack, and stuffed everything else into it. He opened his door and stepped out into the rain, his backpack slung over his shoulders. He cocked his hand-held, making sure there was enough ammo in it, before closing the door behind him and heading toward Central Park.

All he had to do was follow the sounds of that stupid dog and he'd find Teivel. And maybe Cera, too. He grinned as he thought about what she'd do when he showed up to save the day. Then he had to imagine Torn in a dress again to keep his focus straight...


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes**: My apologies for the short chapter: I spent two days writing it and it's still too short and too fast-paced. It's my biggest flaw in writing. I hope you still enjoy it, and I shall endeavor to make subsequent chapters flow more appropriately.

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><p>CHAPTER I<p>

"_Fear has a large shadow, but he himself is small_." – _Ruth Gendler_

The rain only got worse as Cera approached her "employer", who was flanked by two of his most burly bodyguards. They were standing in a corner of the park, as far from the open area as they could get. In fact, the only way Cera was even able to find him was not by sight, but by sound: Teivel's bulldog, Crusher, was barking his head off as soon as Cera's scent flowed into his nostrils. As she pushed herself through the brambles of low bushes, following her ears, she imagined several ways she could silence that dog. And not for the first time, wondered why someone as sneaky and elusive as Teivel would risk exposure with a dog that didn't know how to shut up.

A crack of thunder announced her presence, and Teivel stood up straighter from having bent over to pat his dog. Crusher stopped barking and decided to growl, showing all his razor sharp teeth, including the two walrus-like fangs in the front. Cera halted a few feet away from the dog, who was held in place by a leash that one of the bodyguards was holding, but Teivel walked up to her anyway. Cera was a petite woman; thin and gangly in most areas, but even still, Teivel was not much bigger. He had broader shoulders, but the rest of him was no more impressive than a sixteen year old. If it weren't for his connections to crime and his bodyguards, Cera wouldn't fear him in the slightest.

When Teivel got within arm's reach of her, he grinned, faking compassion as he looked over her wet, dishevelled body. "Poor Cera," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "this wasn't a great time for a meeting, was it?"

"That's why you called me now," Cera replied.

He glowered. "Watch your tone, Missy; I could have you killed right now and no one would care."

She knew he wouldn't kill her; he needed her to get Skull Gems. Without her, he'd have to do it himself, and one of the things she learned from working for him was that Teivel hated to do things himself. Nevertheless, she also feared that if she pushed it too far, he'd kill her anyway, and just find someone to replace her. Since she valued her life, she looked at her shoes, sopping wet from the rain, and muttered humbly, "I'm sorry."

Smiling, he patted her shoulder, deliberately too hard, and said, "That's better. Now to business. I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you to come without Skull Gems." Of course she wondered, but she knew better to interrupt him when he was talking, so she said nothing in reply. Instead, she rubbed her shoulder painfully as he continued, "You always seem to meet my requirements for Skull Gems so easily. It's as if you live where the Metal Heads do." Cera tensed up, but he had turned his back on her, so he didn't notice. And since he didn't wait for her to reply, she assumed he was just musing out loud. Her suspicions were proven correct when he said, "But, of course, you couldn't live with them; however good you are at getting their Gems, I doubt someone like _you_ could take on more than one at a time." He turned around to look at her, grinning as he moved his thumb and forefinger close together. "One very _small_ one at a time."

His guards laughed, which Crusher echoed loudly. Too loudly; his barks were bouncing off the walls of the corner they were standing in. Teivel's fake friendliness melted away instantly, as he shouted, "Silence!" Crusher stopped mid-bark and was quieter than Cera had ever heard before. Unfortunately, the dramatic mood change meant that the meeting was starting to get serious, and that always meant bad news for Cera. She swallowed nervously. "Listen up, Missy," he said, dangerously calm, "I can't keep hiding forever. The Freedom League is getting closer to finding me with every passing day. I need those Skull Gems in order to fight back should that happen, and _you_ -" he pointed at her, making her gasp suddenly, "- aren't making it any easier with the pitiful amount you get me every week! So step it up!"

Cera resisted the urge to sigh in relief; it was just a meeting to get more Skull Gems after all. She pretended to worry as she asked, "How much more do you need?"

He tapped a finger on his chin in thought. When he answered, "Sixty", she gasped in outrage for real. He was asking for more than four times the usual amount. She may have been able to reach three times the quota, but the problem with Metal Heads was that the more she destroyed, the more she attracted. She didn't like to take out more than five or six Metal Heads per day, otherwise some of the bigger ones would come out of hiding, and Cera didn't have easy access to ammo. She'd end up committing suicide to meet Teivel's ridiculous demand.

"I can't get sixty Skull Gems in a week!" she said, indignantly.

"Well, you'd better find a way to do it, because I've got _big_ plans in the making! I need those Gems, and if you don't provide, then you can kiss your life goodbye!"

Just as angrily, Cera replied, "If I do this, I'll be risking my life anyway!"

"And what about your sister's?"

That shut her up instantly.

Teivel laughed silently. "Struck a chord, didn't I?" Cera averted eye contact and went back to studying her shoes. "How fast your attitude changes when you realize the true stakes at risk here." He leaned closer to her, in order to whisper in her ear, "Because you understand that _I'm_ the only one who knows where your sister is, and if you _piss_ me off enough, I can see to her death. Of course, I'd wait until after I tell all of Haven City who's _really_ responsible for her exile!"

Cera couldn't hide her tears, no matter how hard she tried. It was only by the grace of the rainfall that Teivel didn't notice. He stood back up, put on his fake mask of friendliness and asked, "So will you get me sixty Gems by next week?"

She huffed sadly. "Yes," she answered, too softly for him to hear.

He assumed she agreed anyway. Patting her shoulder painfully again, he said, "Good girl! And you know I'm not totally heartless: the Gems you collected this week can go towards next week. But after that, if I don't get sixty from you, well, you know what will happen."

He grinned evilly as she nodded, defeated. She was still staring at the ground when he walked over to his bulldog and patted his head. Crusher took that as permission to start barking again, wagging his tail frantically. Cera stood there, hoping Teivel would dismiss her already, so she could go back home and contemplate the impossibility of the situation. It wasn't until about a minute of petting his dog that Teivel turned to her finally and said, "You know, there is something else I've always wanted from you."

_What else could he possibly want_, she thought, shivering from the cold as it started raining even harder. She slowly looked up at him and caught his eye, gleaming with an evil tint. He tapped his finger on his chin again, musing, "You're not much to look at, and you're way too "tiny" for my tastes..." She guessed instantly what he wanted and backed up, covering herself futilely with her arms. He reached out for her, grabbing her wrist roughly. "Where do you think _you're_ going, Missy?"

She opened her mouth to scream, but a clap of thunder drowned her out. She vaguely heard Teivel laughing menacingly as he yanked her closer, the smell of wet dog wafting from him to her. His mouth was just about to connect with her neck when they heard _BAM_! _BAM_! _BAM_! from behind them. It wasn't thunder; Teivel, his guards and Crusher, the latter barking madly, all turned around to see what it was. In the confusion, Cera broke free of Teivel's grip and started backing up again. She took three steps and backed into a wall.

Only it wasn't a wall.

She felt a familiar arm wrap around her shoulders, a familiar hand lightly grip her upper arm, and a familiar heat warm her from her head to her toes. She didn't have to look up to see who it was, but she did have to muster what little courage she had to avoid nestling into his chest for safety. She had to pretend, as hard as it was, that she didn't know him. If Teivel thought she had an accomplice, it would be her death.

But Teivel, for the moment, was more interested in the used up firecrackers one of his bodyguards picked up from the ground. The exploding sound they heard was from that. He raised an eyebrow in confusion and mused, "Firecrackers? What the -?" He turned around to look at Cera, but instead of seeing her, all that filled his vision was a cocked weapon, aiming for his face, right between the eyes.

"Hey there, short stuff!" said Jinx, teasingly, as the crime boss' eyes went wide with fear. It was easy to appear intimidating to a petite woman like Cera, but up against a man who was almost twice his height and build, who made Teivel look like a little kid in comparison, there was no courage. However, that was why he employed burly bodyguards and had a dog with fangs that could rip apart steel.

Crusher broke free of his leash, nearly pulling off the one guard's glove in the process. He lept toward Jinx, who re-trained his weapon and fired at the dog, but missed when Teivel quickly grabbed his arm to disrupt his aim. Jinx managed to knock Teivel to the ground by backhanding him with the arm he stupidly held onto, just before the dog landed on his chest. He pushed Cera out of the way to protect her from getting hurt, as Crusher's weight threw Jinx to the ground, and before the latter could get him off, the bulldog with walrus-like fangs bit into his shoulder, just below his neck.

He screamed in pain and rage, literally kicking Crusher off of him. The blood oozing from his shoulder stained the rain-soaked ground as Jinx made a grab for his fallen weapon. He saw the dog coming for another attack, so he quickly snatched his weapon up and took careful aim, the loss of blood clouding his vision slightly. Somewhere in the scuffle with the dog, the clip keeping his long, blond hair out of his face snapped off, and he had to take a second to fling it back behind his head.

It was one second too long. Crusher made another leap, not as high as the first time, but just high enough to connect his steel-crushing jaws to Jinx's leg. Fortunately, the dog wasn't biting as hard, so no skin was punctured, but it still hurt, and Jinx had to clench his teeth in order to avoid screaming in pain again. He pointed the gun at Crusher's head, careful not to aim anywhere near his own leg, and fired.

It should have disintegrated the dog.

Except that it didn't.

The beam of energy dispensed from the weapon was actually absorbed into Crusher's skin, making the spot of impact glow for a moment, but then disappeared, as if he had never been shot at in the first place. "What the hell?" Jinx exclaimed, temporarily forgetting about the pain in his leg from Crusher clamping on it. The dog didn't even seem to notice he had been shot. Not even after Jinx fired at him several more times, unloading his ammo until his weapon clicked empty, watching in disbelief as each shot was absorbed, and Crusher was left unscathed.

The dog let go of his leg, possibly to skew up for another attack. In that time, Jinx looked up confusingly at Teivel, who had picked himself off the dirty ground, rubbing his scratched cheek from the impact with the pavement. But all the crime boss did was smile and laugh, not explaining how his dog was able to repel weapon fire. With a gruff voice, he commanded to Crusher, "Finish him off!"

"No!" Cera screamed, tears streaming down her face as she watched the whole affair and was too cowardly to do anything about it. "Teivel, don't kill him!"

The dog stopped, looking at his master expectantly, the latter giving Cera a raised eyebrow. "You've never objected to me killing people who oppose me before. Do you know him?"

If she answered 'yes', she was dead. If she answered 'no', he was dead. Her voice caught in her throat, but the hesitation was missed, as Jinx, almost instantly, replied, "I've never seen her before in my life," with such a straight face that Cera almost believed it herself. "I'm working for the Freedom League." He flashed Teivel a devilish grin and added, "You're getting sloppy; I found you by accident. In a matter of weeks, the rest of the League will round you up and have you shot."

"Unlikely," Teivel replied, and snapped his fingers. One of his guards stepped forward, menacingly, walking with such purpose that he seemed to have grown a foot taller. Jinx was unafraid; he stood up as straight as he could, considering he could barely stand on his leg and his shoulder was screaming in pain. Crusher returned to Teivel's side, barking as usual, and Cera stood slightly apart from all of them, too afraid to do anything but watch.

It ended very quickly: the guard threw a punch at Jinx, who couldn't raise his arm high enough to block, and it connected with his jaw. It hit so hard that he was certain his brain spun around a few times in his head. But before he could gather his wits about him again, the guard grabbed his shoulder for support, the one Crusher had mangled, of course, and punched him clear in the gut with the other fist, so hard that spittle seeped from Jinx's mouth as he was pushed to the ground, writhing in pain.

A thousand thoughts swam through his mind as he tried to cling to consciousness, but the only clear one he could hang on to was, _If this is what being a hero involves, I'm better off taking care of myself_. Shortly thereafter, giving in to the loss of blood that made his body too weak to stay awake, he lay still, breathing so slightly that Teivel didn't notice, and in his infinite arrogance, assumed he was dead.

He then re-focused his attention on the shivering girl, watching in outrage at the brutality, and hating herself for being too much of a coward to stop it. He growled at her and said, angrily, "Sixty Skull Gems by next week, or you'll end up just like _him_." He gestured to his troop and added, "Let's get out of here, before more Freedom Leaguers show up." They walked away, Crusher snapping teasingly at Cera's ankles as he passed. She backed up and watched them leave, until the dense fog from the endless rain blocked them completely from view.

Then, with her arms wrapped around her tiny body in a pitiful attempt to keep warm, she turned to her saviour, lying on the ground, unmoving and barely breathing. The guilt crashed over her harder than all the rain around her; she could have saved him if she spoke up sooner. She was resolved to never repeat the same selfish mistake again. At least not when it came to returning the favour of protecting someone who risked his life to protect hers.

His wounds were serious, and time was of the essence. Bringing a heavily injured man into a hospital would raise suspicions however, and Cera couldn't risk people asking her questions: her business with Teivel and especially where she lived had to remain a secret. Her life and her sister's whereabouts depended on it.

She refused to let him bleed to death in Central Park just for saving her life. So she swallowed her pride and decided that the only way to save him was to nurse him back to health herself. And that meant bringing him to her home.

Then she vaguely remembered he parked his vehicle just outside the park...


	3. Chapter II

**Author's Notes**: In case anyone is wondering about the historical timeframe, this story takes place between Jak II and III.

* * *

><p>CHAPTER II<p>

"_Have the courage to live. Anyone can die_." - _Robert Cody_

A flash of images; nothing concrete enough to hold onto. A feeling of arousal spurred by a woman whose face swam around, never solidifying. Pain and blood and rain, mixed with a scream as he sped the vehicle faster and faster through his thoughts, zooming passed, merging together until they were a colourless lump of images. He could hear voices, speaking with unclear words. He spun round and round, trying to figure out what he was seeing, feeling and hearing. He spun until he became dizzy and fell over, crashing into a bulldog with walrus-like fangs, whose skin glowed yellow for a moment, before the dog disappeared, leaving behind a vicious cackling, followed by a purposeful fist connecting with his jaw.

The latter image alone jerked him awake. He took a full minute of lying still, staring at an unknown ceiling, just to remember who he was and vaguely what happened leading up to the conscious-robbing punches he received earlier. How much earlier he couldn't guess; at that moment, the only thing he knew for sure was that he was no longer in Central Park. The ceiling he was staring at was definitely not his own. Nor was it a hospital ward's. It was shoddy, as if the plaster was put up quickly and recklessly. Whoever did it didn't care about aesthetics or symmetry: it was done just to be done.

He worried for a moment that he'd been captured by Teivel, and was being held for questioning. The crime boss certainly wasn't above interrogation; but Jinx knew that he was too obsessed with secrecy to risk exposure by taking a prisoner. It was more likely that he would have just left Jinx lying there, bleeding to death. It would have sent a decent message to the Freedom League: _mess with me and this is what happens_.

Jinx snorted in derision at the thought of Ashelin and Torn giving a shit whether or not he dropped dead in Central Park. They would have just added another tick to the ever-growing casualty list, shrugged their shoulders and sighed, then they would have just gone right back to work. In one sense, Jinx was proud that they could distance themselves so easily: it's what made them such good leaders. But on the other hand, it gave his heart the slightest twang at the knowledge that no one cared enough about him to shed a tear if he died.

He blinked. _That's not quite true_, he thought, as he stared up at that uneven, plaster-pealing ceiling. Someone cared enough not to let him die in the park. Someone cared enough to bring him to wherever he was and make sure he was okay. His leg and shoulder throbbed in pain still, but not as badly as when he received the wounds, accentuated by the two hammer blows to his gut and face. The latter memory made him instinctively rub his jaw, trying to feel if it was still in place. As soon as his fingers laced around his chin and cheeks, all he could feel was something odd; something he didn't have for a long time:

The beginnings of facial stubble.

He shaved before he left that evening, looking for a woman to bring home with him. The fact that he had stubble now, and what appeared to be more than just a slight growth, told him that he had been unconscious for a long time: all night and most of the morning at least. He tried to sit up, to better assess his situation, get his mind back in the here-and-now, and maybe look for a razor in the meantime. Unfortunately, as he attempted to put his hands behind him for momentum in sitting up, he noticed something else that was odd and haven't happened in a while:

His right arm was handcuffed to a bedpost.

His confusion very quickly turned to panic as he suddenly realized that he was lying on a bed. It had no covers, and a thin sheet between him and the mattress. It was a small mattress, as well, and only barely fit him on it. He jerked into a sitting position, hearing the bed groan under his weight. The legs supporting it were old and splintered; it appeared as if the bed were found in a dumpster after someone else discarded it. The sheet, however, looked clean and laundered, and the pillow supporting his backside was either new or very well taken care of. So the harsh appearance of the bed itself seemed too contradictory for it simply to be a dumpster's hand-me-down.

In fact, the whole room he was in was littered with contradictions. It was small; barely enough for one person to live in. There was a stove near the front door, which was boarded up with so many locks the door could barely be seen under them. Looking around, Jinx couldn't see if there even was a back door. He did notice a small refrigerator unit and a mouldy-looking cupboard above the stove, and what he assumed was a closet on the wall facing him. Beyond that, there were no lamps, no shelves, no end tables, no pictures, no nothing in the house to make it look like anyone lived there at all. And the fact that the paint was peeling and there was no carpeting made Jinx think that whoever did live here was seriously down on his luck.

But the house was clean. He noticed that right away. There was no mess on the floor, no filthy smell invading the senses, no disorganization in any way, shape or form. Even he, who recently received massive shoulder and leg wounds, was clean and proper; whoever brought him here and chained him to the bed took very delicate care of him, patching his wounds and cleaning the blood so perfectly that it looked as if he weren't injured at all.

Inspecting the bandages on his body made him very well aware of the fact that his leather straps and, more importantly, his shirt, were missing. He wasn't even wearing his big, military-style boots, although that may have been more because the neat-freak living here didn't want mud and whatever else getting all over the bed. He saw his boots over by the door, resting comfortably on a flat, metallic, make-shift floor mat. He would need those before he left. As well as his shirt. And his backpack, which he also noticed was missing. But first, he had to find a way out of the handcuffs, which were set to a comfortable position, but were tight nonetheless, threatening to cut off the circulation of blood to his hand should he continue tugging on it as hard as he was doing.

After several minutes of trying to weasel out of the cuffs, scratching his wrist something terrible, he gave up in a huff. "I could _really_ go for a bloody cigar right now," he muttered, frustrated. It only added to the urgency to find his pack, wherever it may be. Possibly stashed in that closet, if only he could reach it...

No plan had time to form in his mind as his thoughts were interrupted suddenly by the sound of the front door's handle jerking around. Jinx's head spun around to the door, worry pounding in his chest. He contemplated feigning sleep, but the door slowly, purposefully, opened before he could even twist his handcuffed arm around to do so. Instead he sat up straighter, trying to look imposing, despite the unimpressive position he was in currently. If he was to go down, it wasn't going to be while he was cowardly lying on a bed.

But the petite woman who walked through the door, with a brown sac slung over her shoulder, made Jinx gasp so unexpectedly that he choked a bit and coughed his wakefulness to the familiar stranger. She looked up at him, not with the smugness of someone capturing an enemy, but with the big, apologetic eyes belonging to a remorseful friend. She avoided eye contact with him after that, placed her sac on the floor, and proceeded to close her door and latch the many locks upon it. She took off her sandals and placed them on the floor mat next to Jinx's, then picked up the bag and moved to the closet, careful not to look in Jinx's direction, as she opened the door and placed the sac within it. Jinx got a quick view of his backpack before the raven-haired young woman closed the door and only then raise her eyes to meet his regrettably.

"I'm sorry," she whispered right away, as Jinx opened his mouth to demand what the hell was going on. He snapped it shut, waiting for an explanation. "This was the only thing I could think of to do. You were going to die if I left you."

A thousand questions came to mind. He asked one: "Where the hell am I?"

The look on his face, mistrust and anger, diverted her eyes again. "I brought you to my home. I couldn't bring you to a hospital: they would have asked too many questions."

"So instead of endurin' a few minutes of discomfort, you chose to kidnap me?"

"It's not about discomfort!" she replied, restoring a bit of confidence. "You don't understand. I work for Daren Teivel. If I walked into a hospital with a severely wounded man, with obvious ties to the Freedom League and bulldog teeth marks on his shoulder, would they have just asked me, 'Where'd you find him'? They would have put two and two together and I would have been arrested!"

She made a great point, and it certainly accounted for her actions, but that didn't mean it was going to exonerate her for kidnapping. He was going to retaliate harshly, yell until his lungs popped, demanding freedom and the like, but all he had to do was look at her, and he calmed down instantly. She was on the verge of tears, clearly hating herself for what she had to do to protect her secrecy. She was willing to go through with kidnapping an injured man rather than turn him in, for the sake of her life. She could have left him there to bleed to death; that would have protected her secrecy much easier. But she chose to bring him home, nurse him back to health, and patch him up as well as any doctor.

He snapped his mouth closed again and rubbed his shoulder instinctively. It took a while to form the right words in his mind to say, but after much thought, settled on simply, "Thank you." She nodded, but didn't reply, staring at her feet instead. He asked, infinitely calmer than when she first walked in the door, "How did you get me here?"

She risked looking up at him again and was relieved to see his eyes were much softer than before. Licking her lips, she answered, "Your, um, vehicle has an autopilot. I just told it where to go and it came by itself." She added with a smirk. "Slowly."

He couldn't help but return the smile. "You don't know how to drive?"

"I never had time to learn."

"I could teach you." He gave her a sly look; one that made her blush slightly and turn her head yet again.

"I still don't have time to learn." She gestured to the closet, where she just put her sac. "Teivel quadrupled the contract: I need to collect sixty Skull Gems a week. I actually just came back to get more ammo."

She tried to walk away, toward a narrow hallway passed the bed, but Jinx shifted and said, "Whoa, wait up for a minute!" She paused in her walk and looked at him, standing next to where his arm was handcuffed. "I can help you, you know. Just let me go, and I can gun down those Metal -"

"I'm sorry, I can't let you go." She looked away guiltily.

Instead of getting angry, he simply asked, "Why not?"

"Because you know where I live! If anyone finds out, I'm dead."

He huffed sarcastically. "I was unconscious when you brought me here. I have no idea where I am. Unless you're stupid enough to make a home in the middle of a Metal Head area, I don't -" He stopped because Cera wrapped her arms around herself, as if protecting herself from his realization. He spoke quietly, "By the Precursors, that's what you did, isn't it?"

"It was the best idea at the time," she rationed. "It was the last place Teivel would think to look for me, and I have access to all these Metal Heads. All I had to do was install some EMP pillars to disrupt radio waves, sonars and other detection devices and no one would find me." She could see he wasn't convinced that being shrouded in secrecy was worth chaining him to her bed, so she continued, "If I let you go, the first place you're going to go to is the Freedom League! They'll ask you all kinds of questions leading up to Teivel, and as soon as he finds out I have an accomplice, or worse, if he even thinks I brought you to my home, he'll kill me!"

His raised-eyebrows expression didn't change. He sat in silence for a few moments before ranting, "You need help, Dollface. And judgin' by _this_ -" he yanked his arm, making the handcuff and chain jingle significantly, "- it looks like you need _mental_ help, too. But the Freedom League can protect you. They're trained to handle crime bosses and whatever retaliation they may dish out."

"You can't help me. They can't help me. _No one_ can! I have to do this on my own!"

"Why?"

"You don't understand!"

"I can if you just tell me!"

She swallowed her anger, building up, threatening to explode. She squeezed her hands into fists and closed her eyes. It took a second to calm down, and when she did, her next words were spoken so softly that Jinx had to lean in to hear her. "It's complicated. It's... It's not just _my_ life at risk. You may be able to protect me, but if Teivel thinks for even a moment that I betrayed him, he'll... he'll kill..." She swallowed again, opening her tear-filled eyes, big and wide, pleading at the man who saved her life once. "I have to do this on my own."

For a moment, he just returned her stare, feeling a mixture of pity and confusion. Everyone gets hurt when dealing with crime bosses; he never faltered before. For some reason, though, this woman tugged at his heartstrings more than anyone before her. He opened his mouth to agree with her, that she was better off on her own, but what he said was, "That's bullshit, Sweetheart! You can't just assume the Freedom League is useless until you give them a shot! They're experts at handlin' covert missions. It's the reason they're still in power. You don't want your identity revealed, or your home discovered, or for Teivel to know anything about what's goin' on under his nose? Then you _need_ the Freedom League. You need them more than you need him."

She was silently crying. Tears were forming in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Jinx noticed, of course: he noticed everything about her. From the individual eyelashes wet with tears, to her dark hair, fluffed up from not being in the rain. He noticed her raggy clothes, clean and prim, but torn up anyway, possibly from fighting Metal Heads. He also noticed her neck, although that was hard, as her shirt's collar very nearly covered it all. There was a vein that throbbed with every beat of her heart; he wondered what it felt like. He even reached out his hand to her, until he was stopped by the handcuff and chain. He gave a sharp curse, which made Cera back up further.

In order to hide the embarrassment, Jinx said, quickly, "I _really_ need a cigar."

"Oh, I don't allow smoking -" She paused when he grinned sardonically and shook his right arm. She rubbed her own and muttered, "I guess, under the circumstances, it'd be okay." She moved away from the bed back toward the closet, holding his backpack and the cigars within it. She opened the door and had to move her sac out of the way first. A Skull Gem accidentally fell out of it and rolled across the floor, making a stop at the foot of her stove. It reflected the light in the room in a yellow, glittering manner, making the Gem look more shiny than it actually was, as if it were made of glass instead of metal. For now, she ignored it as she shifted through Jinx's backpack, looking for his cigars.

Jinx asked, "How many Skull Gems do you have there?"

"Eighteen," she answered, as she pulled out a cigar and a match. She then zipped up the pack and put it back more neatly in the closet, before walking toward her chained captive, handing him the items. He took them from her, deliberately grazing his fingers along hers, grinning mischievously as she blushed and turned around, pretending not to have noticed as she walked toward her stove.

He striked the match on his leg, as the cargo pants were thick and tough, and held the flame under one end of the stogie, while he puffed on the other end. Cera opened the cupboard above the stove and took out a small plate: one cracked in places but otherwise acceptable. She closed the doors after she acquired it and finally bent over to pick up the fallen Skull Gem. Jinx watched the latter movement with such intensity that he forgot he was inhaling the smoke until his lungs forced him to expel it by coughing it all up. She looked at him with concern, which Jinx found surprising: most people look at him with disgust when he smoked, or coughed while doing so, claiming that if he quit, he wouldn't have that problem. But this was the first time someone was actually concerned about his health. He flashed her a bright smile, waving the match vigorously until the flame went out, then flicking it away, on the floor.

Instantly, her concern changed to anger. She marched up to him and practically shoved the plate into his hand, saying, "Ashtray," before walking to the discarded match and picking it up. He almost apologized, but in her eagerness to keep her floor clean, she had to bend over again, and the view shut him up instantly. He knew she didn't do it on purpose; it wasn't as if she were _trying_ to get his attention. In fact, it was that exact naivety that intrigued him most. Every other woman he dealt with were all tall, slender and long-limbed, but this one was petite, shy and unlearned. It was fascinating how Cera had all the curves a woman needed, but had no idea how to use them. And, unfortunately for Jinx, covered them up so carefully that even in her tattered clothing, appeared more like a tomboy than a female.

He watched her deposit the used up match in the garbage bag, a small plastic thing carefully placed next to the stove. He watched her with his brow scrunched together in thought, concentrating as if trying to figure out a tough puzzle, subconsciously imagining what she would look like under her clothes, as she walked back to the closet, presumably to put back the Skull Gem under her arm. He crossed one leg over the other, inhaling his cigar smoke deeply. In nothing more than an attempt to distract his body from his imagination, he asked her, slightly painfully, "So why does Teivel want Skull Gems? You never explained it to me."

"There was never a need to," she answered instantly.

"You owe me."

"I already saved your life."

"That was in exchange for me saving yours. Now you owe me for the kidnappin' and handcuffin'."

The door to the closet was halfway opened when she paused and looked up at him guiltily. But he just smiled at her, amused, as if it were all a game. She sort of envied his nonchalance about the situation; she wished it were just a game, herself. She sighed in defeat, as he _was_ correct: she did owe him. Even though it went against everything she tried to keep a secret, she felt comfortable around him. Too comfortable; she hoped she wouldn't end up trusting him. She remembered what happened the last time she trusted someone she didn't know.

She held up the Gem in her hands and asked, "How do you melt a Skull Gem?"

Jinx thought about it for a moment, puffing at his stogie, before finally settling with, "You can't. Skull Gems can take a lot of punishment, but if it ever got to that point, it would shatter or crumble."

She licked her lips. Even though she was talking about something serious, Jinx couldn't help but notice every moment her tongue was on her lips. He rubbed his face instinctively, remembering that he needed to shave. She continued, "Teivel found a way."

"To melt Skull Gems?"

"Right. He found out by accident, actually. You take the blood of an Ottsel, boil it with Eco, and the Gem melts like warm butter on a hot, summer day."

Jinx scoffed sarcastically. He wondered how someone could 'accidentally' come to that realization, but instead of voicing that concern, he said simply, "So what? Why would meltin' a Skull Gem be cause for so much secrecy?"

Cera put the Gem back in the sac before closing the door and returning her disbelieved face back to him. "You saw what a melted Skull Gem can do when you unloaded your ammo on Crusher and nothing happened to the dog!"

Suddenly the seriousness of the situation hit him too hard to joke around anymore. "Are you talkin' 'bout impenetrable armour?"

"If he learns how to perfect the formula and gather enough loyal soldiers, yes. But I've been collecting Skull Gems for him for over two years and he's never wanted so many at once before. I fear he's getting closer to his goal."

"Why would it take so long to get to this point?"

She shrugged. "The only person on the planet more cowardly than me is Daren Teivel. He wouldn't risk exposure by amassing an army, and even if he did, he wouldn't outfit someone in invincible armour he didn't completely trust or couldn't completely control, for fear of betrayal."

"So the sudden demand for more Skull Gems implies that he found a way around that problem?"

She nodded. "That's the theory that makes most sense. Loyalty can always be bought, and Teivel has a lot of money and connections. Even Eco isn't difficult to find, if you know where to look. Skull Gems are the hardest thing to get a hold of, since you have to kill Metal Heads to get them; his whole plan revolves around that contingency."

She deliberately left out the Ottsel blood for some reason. They both knew it, which is why she broke eye contact and pretended to be interested in the edge of the bed, smoothing the creaseless sheet before her. Tentatively, he asked, "What about the Ottsel blood?"

She breathed in deeply before answering, "He has a farm." Her voice broke. "I saw it once. An Ottsel farm just outside the city. They breed like rabbits and his dog... Crusher..." She swallowed. "Crusher eats Ottsels."

"That's sick," Jinx replied, fighting to keep his stomach down.

"It's how he found the formula for the invincible armour. When he was a Krimzon Guard, he was feeding Crusher next to a vat of Eco and some blood dropped in, contaminating the lot. The Baron wanted him executed, but Commander Erol, who was Teivel's friend, talked him into just kicking him out of the Guard. In anger, Teivel threw some captured Skull Gems into the useless vat as well, and watched as they melted. His curiosity nearly made him fall in, but Crusher saved him by pushing him out of the way and falling in as a result. It took a full day to nurse the dog back to health, but when he did, he discovered that his skin was tougher than before. He was still several months away from knowing why that was significant. His discovery was what pushed him into a life of crime, and that was also roughly when I met him."

He finished his cigar at the same time she finished her explanation. There were a lot of holes in the story, of course, such as, "How did you figure all this out? Did Teivel tell you?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "He barely tells me anything. I pieced it all together after bribing Krimzon Guards when I was looking for my -" She snapped her mouth shut before she could continue and turned away from him, hoping stupidly he wouldn't notice the sudden cutoff.

Decently, he went along with it, wanting more information about Teivel's plans more than he wanted to know what she was looking for. He asked, "If other people knew about that concoction, why wouldn't someone else come up with the idea for invincible armour?"

She looked back at him, her eyes sharp and piercing. He'd never seen her like that before and it shocked him. When she replied, poisonously, "Because it takes a sick person to kill innocent animals and harness their blood just for better armour," he decided that her refusal to let the ends justify the means immediately made her a better person than most other people, and he would protect that innocence as best as he could. It was refreshing to know that even in Haven City, there were still some people who believed in morals. Having her around would be good for him, too.

Jinx lost sight of his morals a long time ago.

He tried an old argument again, for the sake of protecting her: "You need the Freedom League's help. They have to at least know what's goin' on. If Teivel succeeds in this, they won't stand a chance unless they're prepared."

"They can't help me," she replied instantly.

"Do you trust _me_?" he asked, hopefully. As soon as she averted eye contact, he knew the answer was 'yes'. It made him grin.

"I shouldn't, but yes, I do."

"Then listen up, Dollface: I need you for your connections to Teivel, and you need me for my connections to the Freedom League. You may not know it now, but you _will_ need their help. We're goin' to have to work together on this one." He flashed her a smirk that made her blush. "It'll be an experience for both of us: I've never worked with a lady before." _Not without the end result bein' to wake up a little less 'stressed'_, he thought to himself.

She shyly rubbed her arm as she considered his offer. Every slight movement she made gave Jinx the suspicion that he would be 'stressed' for the duration of their teamwork. After a while, she finally said, "Alright. We can work together. As long as Teivel never finds out! If he knows I have an accomplice -"

"Yeah, yeah: he'll kill you." He continued before she could comment on his lack of concern for her life. "First thing we've gotta do is contact the Freedom League. They'll be able -"

This time, it was her turn to cut him off. "We can't contact them."

He raised an eyebrow. "But you said -"

"I mean we can't contact them over electrical channels. Teivel has Freedom HQ tapped. It's how he's always able to stay one step ahead of them."

"How was he able to do that?"

She shrugged. "I think he has an insider."

"Is that why you're so opposed to trustin' them?"

"It's one of the reasons, yes." She didn't elaborate, so he didn't ask.

Instead, he scratched at his sandpaper face as he said, "We need to at least contact Torn. He wouldn't be the insider, and as I mentioned before, he's an expert at covert missions. He would keep his mouth shut."

"But we can't call him."

"There is a way." She looked at him expectantly. He gave her a sort of apologetic smile before elaborating, "You're not goin' to like it."

"I already don't like this. Might as well just tell me."

He nodded, his smile broadening at her discovery of sarcasm. "Tomorrow, the guys are gettin' together at The Naughty Ottsel for a night of poker and booze. It helps to get our minds off the wars around us and just relax. Torn will be there. We can contact him that way."

"Would I be welcome there?"

He coughed. "You would if you were my girlfriend. The guys bring their girlfriends all the time." Her eyes widened and she blushed. He laughed. "I told you that you wouldn't like it!"

"It's just... It's a little..." She flustered for a bit, making Jinx grin more and more, until she finally gathered her thoughts and said, "If it's for the sake of stopping Teivel, I suppose I could _pretend_..."

"Good!" He certainly enjoyed the idea of pretending. He enjoyed that thought too much. He crossed his legs again and asked, to distract her from the movement, "I suppose since we're on trustin' levels with each other, you can maybe...?" He jerked his arm again, making the chain handcuffing him to the bed jingle.

"Oh, right. Yes." She reached into her pocket and took out a small key, then moved around the bed to the post he was latched to and proceeded to unlock him. While she was doing it, she said, humbly, "I'm sorry about doing this, in case it's any consolation."

He scoffed dismissively. "Don't worry about it, Dollface; I met my last two exes this way."

She started to laugh, but the stoic look on his face implied that he wasn't joking. She blushed again, wondering if trusting him was really a good thing after all...


	4. Chapter III

**Author's Notes**: Praise to the Precursors! A new chapter! I could offer a million excuses for slacking, but I'm sure many of you understand: I started writing this in my youth, before adult responsibilities presented themselves to me. Now, at last, there's a reprieve in my duties, and I can get back to my stories. Enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

><p>CHAPTER III<p>

"_You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment unless you trust enough_." - _Frank Crane_

The sun was setting quicker than usual that night; Cera wanted to acquire at least five more Skull Gems before it became too dark. The bigger, more ferocious Metal Heads always came out at night, and Cera simply didn't have the ammo to unload on them. Unfortunately, she couldn't leave right away; she had an injured guest to attend to first. She had to lay down the ground rules so as to not create disorder. She over emphasized the need for Jinx to use an ashtray. She refused to come back to a mess of ashes on her floor. The back room, which she used for storage, since it was too small for anything else, was out of bounds. She introduced him briefly to her embarrassingly tiny bathroom, big enough for a toilet, a walk-in shower veiled by a thin, tattered curtain, and a small, cracked mirror above an even worse-off sink. She also insisted that he stay in bed, as he was injured, but she didn't really think he'd obey that.

Before she finally left to go Metal Head hunting, attaching her small weapon to the holster she wore around her waist, she watched Jinx as he walked out of the bathroom, pulling his sleeveless shirt down passed his head and over his chest. Cera had it washed and hung in the bathroom to dry when he was unconscious; it was full of blood and she didn't want it to stain her bed sheets. In fact, even as he wore it, there was a deep, red splotch near the shoulder area: no matter how hard she scrubbed, she simply could not remove that stain.

The actual wound was easier to clean, and less time consuming as well, even though the bite was so deep that she had to use stitches. She remembered staying up all night, making sure that he wouldn't develop a fever or an infection, checking his temperature every couple of hours. She was grateful he was unconscious for it, as well, because she was certain the blush never left her face; injured or otherwise, awake or asleep, the sight of his bare chest, muscles rippling with every breath he took, made her insides swim most uncomfortably.

After he finally settled his shirt over himself, he had to clear his throat dramatically to get her attention: Cera was still staring at him. Not that he minded, of course: he just thought it would be funnier if she suddenly noticed what she was subconsciously doing. And true to his suspicions, when Cera noticed she was staring, she jerked a bit, shaking her head, and tried to hide her embarrassment by re-adjusting her weapon in its holster.

"Um, I'm going to go out for a bit," she said, with a blush, "before it gets too dark to do so. Stay in bed until I get back." She winced at what she had said and tried to rationalize: "Not that I'm going to get into bed with you when I get back!" She blushed harder. "Or any time, for that matter!" All the while he was laughing, harder and harder with every inch of her foot she put into her mouth. Eventually she gave up trying to explain herself, and left the house in a rush, leaving him to take several more minutes before he could gather himself.

As she walked outside her home's crude dampener field, turning back as always to make doubly sure the field was working in making it seem as if the house were invisible, she tried to shake off her embarrassment. Her pace quickened, and she found she was walking further and further away from her usual Metal Head hunting spot. Consciously, she wanted to get as far away from Jinx as possible, but deep inside, her emotions were turbulent. She'd never been caught staring at a man before. Of course, she'd never been interested in a man before. She'd never had time to indulge in that sort of frivolity. Her parents died when she was very young, and left her alone to care for her sister...

Cera paused in her walking at the thought of her sister. If only she knew where to find her! Then she could go back to having a normal life: one that didn't involve late-night walks in Metal Head areas collecting Skull Gems for a criminal who fed Ottsel's to his dog. In one brief moment, she entertained the idea of asking Jinx for help looking for her, but that thought was quelled from her memory almost as soon as it entered. Only Teivel knew where her sister was, and even though there was virtually no chance of him telling her, if he suspected for an instant that someone else was looking for her, he'd kill her. Cera knew her sister was still alive. She _knew_ this. And she wouldn't risk that fact with anyone else.

She began walking again, slower this time. The sun was all but gone in the sky, yet Cera hadn't obtained a single Skull Gem. She wasn't even aware of how much time had passed. She turned around, hoping to see the slight shimmering of her house's dampener field, but it was too dark: she couldn't see it. She was lost; lost in the middle of an unknown Metal Head area. And she could hear movement as the bigger, more ferocious Metal Heads stirred awake, ready to patrol the night for foolish wanderers like herself.

She started to walk back the way she came; maybe she would get lucky and see the shimmering before she was ambushed. But Metal Heads can smell fear, and her heart was pounding with it so hard that she could hardly hear anything else: not even the loud crunching of gravel under her feet, giving even more direction for whatever Metal Head decided to track her. And it didn't take long for it to happen. There was a glimmer of yellow, almost like glass, straight ahead of her. It made her stop. She gasped, grabbing for her weapon, but it was caught in the holster. _Dammit!_ she thought, fighting to rip it free. But the Metal Head was undeterred, unafraid. She was backing up, sweating in fear, cursing louder and louder until she finally got the weapon loose and pointed it forward at the Metal Head.

It loomed over her; it appeared smaller from a distance, but as it barreled toward her, it seemed to grow larger and larger until it was more like a mountain than a blood-thirsty creature. Cera shivered on the spot; she could waste what little ammo she had in that gun and not even give the Metal Head a pricking feeling. If she aimed correctly, she might be able to hit its enormous eye and distract it long enough for her to flee. She pointed the weapon upward, her fingers trembling on the trigger; she took careful aim and fired, hitting the eye perfectly. Unfortunately, the great beast just blinked, as if the shot was made of dust, and roared in anger, now more determined than before to make a small snack out of her.

His roar knocked her to the ground. She scrambled to pick herself up, dropping the weapon in the process, but the Metal Head slammed his clawed hoof into the ground right beside her, shaking herself back on her knees. It could have crushed her, but it was playing with her, as any predator would do to its prey before the killing blow. It smashed the ground again, throwing her from her recently acquired footing again. This time, it crushed her weapon beneath its hoof, making her curse at the loss of her only way of collecting Skull Gems. She had a feeling that this Metal Head knew who she was, that she ventured into his area to destroy his fellows every day. It frightened her, but also gave her extra momentum to get away, clambering to her feet and running, before it jetted her to the ground again.

It chased her, slowly and intimidatingly, bounding like a rhinoceros with tusks instead of a horn. Its shining Gem provided a pseudo-beacon, always glittering in the direction she was running. When at last it chased her to a dead end, it slowed to a stop, as if to give her a few moments to contemplate her death. She spun to face the beast, attempting to be brave, even though her knees were shaking and she clung to herself, to keep her fearful heart from beating out of her chest. The Metal Head snorted, the smell of sewage and Eco filling her senses. She backed up into the crumbling wall as best as she could, while the beast before her opened its mouth and came at her.

She couldn't stop herself. Her instincts insisted on it. Before the Metal Head could reach her, she took a huge, deep breath and screamed, "_Jinx_!" at the top of her lungs. Not 'help', not just a loud noise, but _his_ name. If he had listened to her, he would be in bed, resting his injuries, not following her around a Metal Head infested area.

But as she suspected would happen in the first place, he didn't listen to a word she said. As if in slow motion, she felt his hand slide over her shoulders and lightly grip her upper arm, pulling her against his chest for protection. She reveled in the scent of his pheromones, seeking refuge in the safety of his arms. The Metal Head stopped charging, momentarily confused by the sudden appearance of another person. It was one second's hesitation too long; Cera felt, rather than saw, Jinx raise his weapon with the hand not currently holding her against him, and fire at the beast, hitting it in the eye, as Cera had earlier. The difference was that her own weapon was obsolete and nearly useless, but his hand-held was more powerful than it looked, and unlike Crusher, when the shot hit its target, the Metal Head's eye was compromised to the point where the beast roared one last time in pain, then charged the opposite direction, to get away. Clearly, this prey was more trouble than it wanted to deal with.

She didn't move until the loud trampling of the injured Metal Head couldn't be heard anymore. Then, slowly, she raised her head to look at him, a word of thanks on her lips. But she didn't have a moment to speak before his head lowered as hers rose and, whether by accident or on purpose, his mouth connected with hers.

It was innocent. She backed away instantly, flickering her eyes open and holding her hands up apologetically. He looked at her darkly, holstering his weapon at his side; she mistook it for offense at the supposed accident, when it most certainly was not. "I'm sorry!" she said anyway, instinctively rubbing her mouth where he had kissed her. "I didn't mean to -"

But her explanation was cut short when he approached her, closing the short gap between them in one stride, gripped her shoulders, and pulled her up against him, once again bringing his lips to hers, with more deliberation. She let out a squeak of protest, but it was short lived, and soon the only noises coming from her throat were soft moans and purrs. She wrapped her arms around his neck, twining her fingers through his thick, blond hair, still loose and disheveled from the fight in Central Park. He moved his hands down her body and rested them on the crest of her hips, pulling her closer and closer against him, until they were a combined entity of limbs and clothes and raging emotions.

In his fevered mind, Jinx realized that she was allowing him to lead the kissing. More accurately, she had no idea what she was doing, and could only react to him. Her mouth would barely open between each kiss, denying him the opportunity to taste her more fully. He would have to direct her; slowly coax her into granting him more access. He had never come across a woman with so little experience before; typically he preferred women who could reciprocate his advances, as he used physical pleasure simply as a means of reducing stress. It was an occasional itch that had to be scratched, and he had neither the time nor the patience to teach someone how to do something that should have been instinctual common knowledge.

And yet, it seemed so different with Cera. Perhaps it was that very naiveté that sent him sprawling into a torrent of longing: normally, he would just forgo the majority of foreplay in order to satisfy his lust, but Cera was like a drug: the more he kissed her, the more he wanted. He soon forgot that he was going to coax her mouth to mold with his, and found himself instead drowning in his own uncontrollable emotions.

Perhaps _he_ was the naïve one.

After five minutes of kissing, or possibly five days, she somehow managed to open her mouth to him just enough for him to instinctively reposition his lips over hers and reach in with his tongue, lightly massaging hers. And that was when time started to fast-forward back to the present. She backed off so suddenly that he almost fell over, trying to steady himself in a world that was spinning too fast for him to grasp immediately. It took a few seconds for him to regain his composure, but in that time, he looked like a little boy who had just lost a precious toy. His eyes were wide with confusion and disappointment; he stupidly still held out a hand where Cera's hip was moments before.

She had her own hand over her mouth, looking afraid and possibly disgusted. Surely she didn't regret what had happened; Jinx would never forgive himself if she did. He snorted sarcastically at his own thought: he had never truly worried about the woman's feelings before. It could probably explain why he had two ex-girlfriends and a lot of wasted credits on escorts.

He stood up straight and asked, with genuine concern, "Did I do somethin' wrong, Sweetheart?"

She blushed at the endearment and shook her head. "Oh, no, it's not that." She paused, but his burning eyes would not let her get away without an answer. "Um, it's just that you, um, taste like an ashtray."

He blinked, but then he laughed. It was mostly relief: if that was her only problem, then he may have another chance with her after all. He just had to take care of his breath, which was another thing he never had to worry about before; his exes were both smokers. They stood there, staring at each other with a goofy smile for a few more seconds, before a distant roar brought them back to the present.

"We should go," Jinx suggested, walking passed Cera, toward her shack. She didn't move, so as he passed, he lightly gripped her wrist and pulled her along, reluctantly at first.

"No, no, you don't understand!" she protested, but soon walked along with him on her own. She wasn't going to be left behind in Metal Head territory this late at night. "I've collected maybe thirty gems so far. I need sixty by next week. And the more I kill, the more show up, until they overrun me. I have to collect a little each day, but I didn't get enough today to make the quota. Now it's too late, so I have to get twice as much tomorrow, which I can't do because we're going to meet the Freedom League tomorrow. Don't you realize how hard it is for me to collect Skull Gems?"

He stopped and looked down on her, with a crooked smile. "Well, then, just get someone else to do it for you." He spread out his arms dramatically, indicating himself. She was tempted to take him up on his offer; it would certainly alleviate the pressure. He could gun down Metal Heads much more effectively than her, even if they rise up in greater numbers. His weaponry and explosives could no doubt protect him should such a situation occur. The problem was that she was unwilling to subjugate someone else to her burden. It was bad enough she got Jinx into the mess to begin with; she wasn't going to get him killed because of it.

"I can start with _that_ one," Jinx said suddenly, grabbing his weapon and aiming it at a small Metal Head in the distance. It was skittering around harmlessly, unaware of the strangers in its midst.

Cera yelled, "No, not that one!" and grabbed Jinx's wrist, in an attempt to disarm him, or at least divert his aim. The latter worked, and he shot into the sky, lighting up the not-so-distant Metal Head, who scurried away into the darkness.

Jinx turned on her, his brow furled. "What was that for?! I'm just trying to help you!"

"That was an infant! You don't kill infants or nesting mothers!"

He scoffed. "They're Metal Heads; who cares?!"

"Who cares?" she repeated, disbelieving. "Who cares? What if it was _your_ kid? Would you like a Metal Head to kill your kid?"

"Well, I don't plan on having kids any time soon," he said dismissively. He looked down on Cera, but her expression was unreadable. He couldn't tell if her anger was toward his nonchalance about killing infant Metal Heads, or his comment about not wanting kids. He tried swallowing his guilt, but the lump remained in his throat.

It wasn't until her expression softened by a hair that he relaxed a bit. "Okay, if you don't care about the _morality_ of killing infants," she said sarcastically, giving him such a poisonous look that he actually winced, "then try looking at it from this perspective: if you kill an infant, or a nesting mother, it'll only attract the Metal Head father. You saw one earlier, when you shot one in the eye. Imagine that coming after you, bringing his friends with him, after you kill his offspring. Maybe you can handle one at a time, but not a multitude of them."

"Alright, I'm sorry," he apologized, replacing his weapon at his side and resting a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. "I won't kill infant Metal Heads."

"Or nesting mothers."

"Yes, yes, or them." He removed his hand and reached into one of his vest pockets, where his cigars were stored. Taking one out and striking a match underneath it, he puffed until the flame at the end was self-sustaining, then he waved the match out and almost flicked it away. Cera gave him a look; just a subtle eyebrow raising and he instead pocketed the waste.

"Out of curiosity," he started, continuing the walk back to the shack, with Cera in tow, "how do you tell the difference between the Metal Heads?"

"Oh, well, the big ones are obviously males," Cera explained. She was trying to keep up with his pace, but his legs were much longer than hers, and his strides were more powerful. It took several seconds for him to realize that he was walking too fast before he finally slowed down. She eyed his legs a bit before continuing her explanation, curious about what they looked like under his cargo pants. They were probably muscled, adding power to his strides. She looked up at him and saw him eying her legs, too. They were likely thinking the same thing.

She cleared her throat embarrassingly and continued, "Um, nesting mothers are usually still, and their Skull Gems don't reflect light as well, so they look like a dull yellow. Not all small Metal Heads are infants, but the ones who seem skittish and confused are. Most Metal Heads, if they see you, will come charging at you. Infants will run away."

Jinx nodded, puffing on his cigar. He tried to pace himself, so that he would finish it when they reached her home and he could discard it properly. If he threw the butt away outside, she'd scowl at him again. He tried to rationalize that leaving evidence of another person in the area will compromise her security, but in reality, he believed that he was becoming whipped. He had known her for barely two days, one of which he was mostly unconscious, and she already had him wrapped around her finger. Strength, it seemed, was not determined by broad shoulders and big muscles; sometimes all it took was an innocent demeanor and soft features.

Without thinking, he reached out beside him and grabbed her rump. She yelped in surprise and moved away, ever so slightly. Not enough to be insulting, but just enough to make a point. He brought his hand back to his side, not daring to look at her, out of embarrassment. She was definitely not like any woman he had ever dealt with before. He would have to woo her slowly and carefully; let _her_ come to _him_. He licked his lips in anticipation, taking a long drawl of his cigar, to try to distract him from his thoughts.

Unfortunately, his body was not as patient as his mind, making the walk back to the shack highly uncomfortable. Cera, thankfully, didn't notice. As soon as she saw the slight shimmering of the dampener field, she raced ahead to unlock the door and hold it open for him. As he walked passed her, into the shack, he said, "Thanks, Babe," then immediately discarded his useless cigar into the makeshift garbage bag and made his way to the bathroom at the back of the place, where he could have an ice cold shower.

"Um, are you alright?" Cera asked, concerned and completely oblivious.

Her naiveté made him chuckle silently. "Yeah. I just need a shower. I feel dirty."


End file.
